


Simple Math

by PassionateKey



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: sort of Hunter!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 16:07:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PassionateKey/pseuds/PassionateKey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles doesn't know what he's up against until it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simple Math

**Author's Note:**

> I kept seeing post in the SuperWolf tag on Tumblr about how if the Winchester's met Stiles they'd destroy him. And so that's what this started out as, but then it sort of changed towards the end. I don't even know. Hope you like it.

”You don’t get it, do you kid?” The cool metal of a gun scraped against Stiles’s warm skin. “You can’t beat us. No matter how much love and blind dedication you have to this pack, you can’t  _save_  them.”

Stiles struggled against the rope that held him, made muffling sounds through the tape on his mouth. The hunter couldn’t understand him, but he was telling him off.

"Struggling will only make it worse." A voice came out of the shadows. "You’ll tire yourself and then won’t be conscious enough to see us take down your pack."

Stiles peered his head around to see the second hunter come into view. Slowly the hunter approached him, tearing the tape off of Stiles’s mouth.

Stiles cried out in pain. “Son of a bitch!”

The first hunter chuckled at this.

Stiles eyes grew dark as he raised his head. “To me it seems you two don’t seem to get it,  _Winchester’s_.”

Dean stopped pacing, watching the kid with sudden interest. 

"You see, when my pack show’s up, they’re going to tear you two apart. And I’m gonna sit here and enjoy it." A dark grin spread across Stiles’s face.

Dean chuckled again, nodding at Sam. “You know he would have made a great hunter in another lifetime.”

Stiles sneered at the comment.

"Kid, do you know who we are?"

"The Winchester’s," he grunted.

"Correct. We’re the Winchester’s. And do you know what our job is?"

"To be huge jackasses on a trigger happy killing spree?" Stiles asked innocently.

"No, but close. Our job is too hunt down and rid the world off monsters like your little friends." Dean sat on the edge of a wooden table, gun dangling down from his wrist.

"Well, your  _job,_  is about to come to a halting stop. Because my friends, are going to  _kill_  you.” Stiles spit out.

This time Sam was the one to chuckle. “I still don’t think you get it Stiles.” Sam said looking down at his watch. “But we have time, so I’ll enlighten you.”

A chair scraped across the floor, sending a chill down Stiles’s spine, as Sam sat down in front of him.

"See me and my brother have been hunting for a long time, ever since we were kids. We know about the scary things that go bump in the night. Even better, we know how to get rid of them. You think werewolves, kanimas, dark druids, banshees, and the  _Argents_ , is all that is out there, you got something coming. Because there are bigger and badder things out there that will crawl in through the night unnoticed, terrorize your dreams, then crawl back out before your  _friends_  can even think about saving you.

"You think we can’t take on a pack filled with children, a psycho ex alpha, an ex power hungry alpha, and an inexperienced one? Huh, kid, we aren’t amateurs. We’ve stopped the apocalypse, defeated Lucifer himself, took down an empire of Leviathans, gone up against Wendigo’s, crazy witches, vengeful ghost, Angles, Demons, Djinn, and countless other creatures you have never even imagined. We are the nightmares monsters have. We are the stories that get told at bedtime to scare children to sleep. We are the thing that should make your skin crawl. And  _if_  you make it out breathing, I hope you never forget the name.”

A howl broke through the night, causing Sam to turn around and pear at his brother. “Well, it seems our time here is up.” Sam stood, bones cracking.

Dean picked up guns, placing them in holsters around his body. “I hope for their sake, the Argent girl and your friend Lydia decided too stay out of it.”

Stiles’s heart dropped at the sound of Lydia’s name. “You-you wouldn’t hurt her would you?” 

Dean chuckled, “If she gets in the way, I don’t have a choice.” 

"But she’s innocent!" Stiles cried out.

"She’s a banshee kid, she’s not human."

Tears rolled down Stiles’s face as he prayed that Scott made Allison and Lydia stay behind. “Are you-are you going to kill me too?” he stammered.

Sam frowned, “We don’t know yet.”

Stiles nodded, swallowing back all the things he wished he had told his father before sneaking out that night. “Okay.”

Leaves crunched outside the small shack, Sam and Dean looked at each other one last time before going out to battle. 

"Kid, next time, stay out things, you weren’t made for this kind of life, and no idiot would want it."

Stiles wasn’t sure how long the fight lasted, he tried blocking it out, but the sounds of guns firing, screams, and bone breaking was too much, eventually he blacked out. He woke up again in his own bed, his whole body sore. Lydia and Allison were curled around him, sound asleep. His father walked in minutes later and looked at him with sad eyes, as he shook his head. 

Stiles felt the life drain out of him.

Eventually Lydia and Allison woke up, his father made them eat before sending them home. Stiles assured them that if they needed anything they were always welcomed there, they both muttered thank you’s, hugging him tightly on their way out.

Weeks after the funerals, you could always find all three of them attached at the hip. Their relationship was a bit codependent, but as people passed them with sad eyes, no one dared say anything. Allison and her father gave up hunting all together, Lydia stopped finding dead bodies, and Stiles threw out all the research he had collected over the year.

After some time Allison’s nightmares of Isaac’s screams subsided into the back of her mind, Lydia finally stopped jumping every time she head the roar of an engine, and even Stiles forgot about the taste of blood that came with thinking of the name Winchester. Allison and Lydia never told Stiles how they found him bloodied, tied to a wooden chair, any trace of the Winchester’s long gone.

Time passed and the three of them went of to college together, always coming back home on the anniversary of that day. And it wasn’t until years later, when a heavy leather bound book with a single word inscribed on the cover should up on his front steps, that he realized that he and his friends had been foolish all those years ago. That no matter how much Stiles thought back of that day and all the things they could have done differently that he realizes it wouldn’t have mattered, they still would have lost. It’s not until then that Stiles gets it.

He sits on the floor, book in his lap, tears streaming down his face, hands held protectively around the permanent scars he got that night from the ropes that held him. He sits on the floor and cries for his best friend, for his foolish actions, for blaming himself, for Scott’s mother, for his dad, for Isaac, for Boyd and Erica, for the Hales. He cries for Lydia, for Jackson, for Allison and her father. He cries for himself. He cries for the Winchester’s. Stiles cries until there is nothing left except dry sobs. He cries until he feels empty. Until all that is left in that void is nothing but understanding, no more anger and revenge.

All this sits inside Stiles’s head as he slowly opens the book to the first page, on it one sentences is scrawled across:

_"We let you live so you could make a difference."_

…

> “ _On April 21, 1967, the 100 millionth GM vehicle rolled off the line at the plant in Janesville — a blue two-door Caprice._  
>  _There was a big ceremony, speeches. The lieutenant governor even showed up. Three days later, another car rolled off that same line. No one gave two craps about her. But they should have, because this 1967 Chevrolet Impala would turn out to be the most important car — no, the most important object — in pretty much the whole universe_ …”

* * *

Dean had been right when he had said Stiles would have made a great hunter. He in fact made an amazing hunter. Quickly the Stilinski name had made it’s self known all around the country. But unlike the Winchester name, infamous for it’s ruthless nature, Stiles was known to help people. He didn’t hunt those that were innocent, or those that could change, he helped those like, his friends all those years ago, assimilate back into society. 

Stiles carried the heavy leather bond book as a reminder of what had created him, he never forgave the Winchester’s for what they had done, but there wasn’t much he could do about it, they were gone, so instead he concentrated on packing his rifle correctly, cleaning his weapons, eating and sleeping. Because now it was his turn to make a difference and he had work to do.

**Author's Note:**

> The quote used in the book is from Swan Song, it's from the narration Chuck gives in the episode. Personal head cannon that after the Winchester's died a sort of Winchester Bible would be made about their lives.


End file.
